


Warmth in Winter's Snow

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Future Fic, Loyalty, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: As the need for her to marry nears, Sansa offers Brienne an enticing proposition.





	Warmth in Winter's Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, alamorn! I loved all your prompts but _Sansa needs to get married for political reasons and wants to have purely non-political sex beforehand_ was the one that particularly caught my fancy.

"You wished to see me, Your Grace?" Brienne's eyes were on the rushes, as she had not been given leave to raise them. Nor did she trust herself if she did. She could never trust herself in the queen's presence. Queen Sansa was far too gentle with her. 

She had heard the rumors currently running unchecked through Winterfell—she prided herself on knowing them as the queen's chief guard. This current crop was especially… unpleasant. Brienne trusted her queen in all things, but she didn't like what these latest rumors implied, and she did not think she could maintain a neutral expression if they were going to discuss them.

"I did." She heard Sansa set something aside and couldn't help but look up, if only for a moment. The queen was seated, her hands folded on the skirts of her dark blue gown, her auburn hair mantling her shoulders. "I require your advice."

Brienne did look up fully then, though she did not rise from her position kneeling at the queen's feet. She did not trust the advice she would give—at least, she did not think Sansa would like what she had to say. Brienne had been expecting this for a long while now, the rude awakening to the fact that Sansa was not hers. 

"The time has come for me to make a difficult choice." She paused, doubt filling her eyes. "Brienne, I think I must marry."

Brienne's heart sank, as the world collapsed around her. She had known to expect it, but she had allowed herself to put off doing so for as long as possible. 

"Are you certain, Your Grace?" 

Sansa's smile was sad. "Yes, Brienne. What is the point of all I have achieved if I have no one to leave it to? I do not relish it, believe me."

Brienne had no answer to this; she could only curse the injustice of the world that there was naught she could do about it. All those moments she'd allowed herself to imagine something more between herself and Sansa came rushing back in a cruel deluge. 

Sansa continued in a business-like manner. "You know I have had numerous suitors over the years, and I have seen you judge each one. Brandon Tallhart is a man of the North, whose family has always served mine well. He does not stand to inherit Torrhen's Square, and I would like to cement my relationship with his cousin."

These were all good reasons; the fact that her logic was sound made it all the more painful. It would be quite another thing if she felt duty-bound to protect Sansa from a cruel husband she had been forced to marry. But she could not dispute the fact that Brandon Tallhart was the best of Sansa's suitors. He would be a good, kind husband.

"I am happy for him. He is a lucky man." It was a battle to keep her voice even. This man did not deserve her loathing, but she could not help but feel it anyway. 

"Oh, Brienne." There was a fond edge to Sansa's voice that made Brienne's heart ache. "Do not believe that I will give him my heart. I think we will learn to get along, but I have no illusions. This is a political match." She paused. "You must not have any illusions either."

Brienne felt her face grow hot. Did she dare hope? "I would never, Your Grace."

"Brienne, you misunderstand me." Sansa slipped from her chair to kneel before Brienne. Before she could draw back, Sansa's soft hands were cupping her face. "If I am bound to wed, I want to go to my wedding with the knowledge at my disposal."

Brienne tried to control her breathing. "What are you asking of me, my queen?"

"I ask that your heart not desert me once I am wed." She smiled. "This would be a new endeavor for both of us and, if you are willing, I hope it is one we can continue after the wedding." 

Brienne's heart was pounding so loudly she wondered how Sansa could not hear it. " _Me_ , Your Grace?"

"I hold no one in higher esteem, Brienne. I know that my life with Lord Brandon will be naught but a mummer's play—and he will know it, too. Both of us will have to seek our true comfort elsewhere, and we go into the marriage knowing this. But I do not wish my _first_ experience of such pleasures to be in such a political act. I wish it to be with someone I care for."

Brienne almost forgot to breathe. Was it possible that the queen shared her feelings? "Your Grace, I—I must think on this. I—"

Sansa looked almost disappointed, but she held it well. "It is an offer, Brienne, not an obligation. If you are not interested, I would not dream of coercing you."

"And if I was not…" She could not even speak the word, for she was _very_ interested, too much. Too much to even let herself think of it. "Would you find someone else?"

"No. You are the only one I would consider." 

Brienne rose slowly, forgetting herself. "I will have to think about it, Your Grace. I—I will think on it."

"Please do, Brienne. I do not wish for you to make any hasty decisions you would later regret." 

_I will never regret this_ , she thought, _but I do need time to get used to the idea._

She bowed, taking refuge in protocol amidst her stress, and Sansa dismissed her. She practically ran back to her own quarters, where there was naught but her own thoughts to distract her the rest of the night.

**

Brienne remained in her chamber as long as was prudent. She could not neglect her duties, and she felt guilty for snapping at Pod, especially as he was no longer a clumsy boy but overdue to be knighted. It was obvious to her that her mind was elsewhere, and she did not wish to be distracted from her duties.

At last, she came to a conclusion. Even though the hour was late, she took a sheet of parchment and a pen and wrote out her answer. Then, she sealed it and summoned a servant to deliver it to the queen's chamber. She received a reply within the hour.

_Come to my chamber tomorrow night._

Brienne could not help smiling as she fed the note to the fire in the grate. She would go, without hesitation or regret, for that was what her queen wished of her.

**

Sansa frowned at herself in the glass and arranged her hair about her shoulders. She had let it down for ease later, but now she was self-conscious of it. She did not want to give the wrong impression, and right now she felt especially… wanton. 

Well, that was the point, wasn't it? She reached for her hairbrush. She knew she was simply trying to fill the time until Brienne's arrival. Everything else was ready—there was a fire roaring, for they would be cold once they were out of their clothes, and there was wine.

Sansa smoothed her hands over the skirt of her shift, which she had stripped to, also for ease. She was under no illusions about Brienne's level of experience—it was equal to hers, she surmised. Which was no barrier—they would figure things out.

This thought brought a smile to her face as Brienne knocked.

"Enter," she said, laying her brush aside. 

Brienne looked as nervous as Sansa felt, which relaxed her somewhat. Brienne always seemed to project confidence and this look of vulnerability was endearing. 

"I'm glad you're here," she said, crossing the room to take Brienne's hand. Brienne's lips twitched with nervousness, and Sansa longed to touch them. Such boldness might only make things worse, though. "Would you like some wine? I had a fine vintage of Arbor gold sent up."

Brienne, who never indulged while on duty, nodded curtly. "I would like that, my queen."

Brienne moved to the pitcher, but Sansa waved her away and poured two goblets. Their fingers brushed as she handed Brienne hers. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, hoping to project a casual air. 

Brienne settled herself into a chair drawn up alongside. Sansa had hoped she would sit beside her on the bed, but that was perhaps too much to hope for right now.

Their conversation was light and inconsequential, perhaps an excuse to get more wine into them. Sansa felt herself begin to relax. She didn't wish to lose _all_ of her inhibitions, but she knew she was tense, and she could sense the same from Brienne. 

"Come sit by me," she said, at last setting her cup aside. It was not empty, but she had drunk enough to feel a pleasant tingling all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

"Yes, my queen." Brienne moved gracefully, shifting from the chair to the bed without awkwardness she sometimes displayed. Sansa knew she was self-conscious about her size and what she regarded as unfeminine qualities, but those were exactly the things Sansa liked best about her.

She wondered if Brienne truly knew how much Sansa desired and had since Brienne had first appeared to rescue her, all those years ago. She had been by Sansa's side ever since, and her attraction had grown since then, beyond the girlish admiration for the knight who had saved her and desired nothing in return. Sansa well knew how rare that was. 

When they sat next to each other, Sansa's head came to Brienne's shoulders. She gave in to temptation and let herself drift sideways. Brienne's shoulder was solid and comforting beneath her head, all the work she'd done to get where she was obvious in every taut muscle of her body. 

"Thank you for doing this for me, Brienne." They had not spoken for a while and for a moment, Sansa had simply enjoyed the crackle of the fire. "I would want no other for this."

"Nor would I." Brienne seemed to stiffen under her, resolve coiling within her. "My queen—Sansa—may I kiss you?"

"Of course, Brienne."

Brienne's hands were large and rough, but they cupped her face gently. There was a beat of hesitation as Sansa looked into those steadfast, blue eyes. As she watched, the hesitation was replaced by resolve and Brienne's lips were on hers. 

Their kisses were chaste at first, but gradually became more heated as they became used to each other. Sansa let her hands move from Brienne's shoulders to her neck, her chest, and then up under her tunic. She realized that Brienne had had the same thought as she had, and had dressed for ease of access. They had both been practical, but that did not mean they could not be romantic.

"May I?" she asked, soft as a breath. 

Brienne nodded, and Sansa let her hand slide slowly, deliberately under her tunic to caress the firm, smooth skin of her abdomen. Sansa had long speculated about the definition of her muscles, for she knew how hard Brienne worked at her training. 

There was a sharp intake of breath as Sansa took Brienne's lower lip between her own. 

"Do you like this?" she asked teasingly, letting her other hand trail through Brienne's hair. She loved seeing how her normally stoic knight seemed to melt under her touch. Just a bit higher and she would find her breasts, small and soft. 

Brienne gasped and Sansa looked up to gauge how she was reacting. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted, just begging for Sansa to lean up and kiss them, which she did. Then they were savoring each other for another long moment, Sansa teasing gently, reveling in each reaction. There was more she wished to do to see Brienne undone, but this was a fine start.

They had all night. 

Sansa resumed her quest beneath Brienne's tunic, overcome by a sudden desire to see what she had touched. 

"Let me, Your Grace," Brienne said. She pulled her tunic off in one smooth motion, and Sansa decided to take that as her cue to remove her shift. She cast it aside boldly, not intending to be demure. Brienne was shy enough for the both of them.

"Your Grace, I—" Brienne's gaze roved over her body despite herself and Sansa felt proud rather than scrutinized, for Brienne's warm devotion was naked on her face. "You are beautiful." 

Sansa smiled fondly. "So are you, Brienne." 

Brienne reddened. "No, my queen, I—" 

"Nonsense." She let her hand travel down Brienne's neck, shoulders, and chest. Her breasts were as she'd pictured them, small but firm. Their mouths met again and Sansa knelt beside her, exploring her body. "You are exquisite." 

Despite her protests, Brienne was pliant under Sansa's touch. She might have lacked confidence in herself as Sansa's lover, but she was a willing recipient of all the pleasure Sansa was able to give her. 

"Lie down," she urged. There was uncertainty in Brienne's eyes but it was overwhelmed by trust. Brienne undid her breeches, her cheeks tinged with color. Sansa understood her shyness; she would have felt it, too, had she not forced herself to be bold. 

"Let me see you," she murmured, pulling the fabric away and down over Brienne's hips. Her thighs were strong and muscular, and Sansa marveled at how unlike her own they were.

Brienne's fingers clutched at the sheets. "Are you certain, my queen?"

"Absolutely." She splayed her fingers on Brienne's belly. "I would not bring any other of my guard into my bed like this. I do not do this merely to take a lover. I do this for how much you mean to me." She kissed her again, letting her tongue linger in Brienne's mouth before withdrawing. She hoped her intentions had been made clear by her earlier avowal. She kissed her way slowly down Brienne's body so that she was trembling when she at last settled between her legs. 

Brienne was already ready for her and Sansa's first kiss to her center made her shudder. She had been apprehensive, having had no experience in this area, but she decided there was little wrong she could do. Brienne seemed to like anything she did, each flick or swirl of the tongue. 

"My queen, I—" Brienne's fingers tangled in her hair. 

Sansa's tongue flicked over the spot which made Brienne quake and squirm with pleasure. She had done so much for her over the years as her guardian and protector. This was the least she could do in return.

"Please—Sansa." Brienne uttering her name made her stop. "Let me touch you, too."

Sansa had been so focused on Brienne's pleasure that she had not considered her own. The idea of them sharing pleasure was appealing.

Brienne moved slowly, her hands fumbling a little on Sansa's body as she gained confidence. Her touch was light and gentle, belying the strength Sansa knew she possessed. Gradually, Brienne seemed to get bolder the lower she ventured. 

Then her fingers, calloused from hard work with a sword or lance were sliding over her sex. Sansa was surprised at her first reaction. Since she had claimed Winterfell for herself, she had hesitated to allow herself any form of relaxation that might show vulnerability. Now Brienne's touch was threatening to totally undo her in a matter of minutes.

She allowed herself a moment to study Brienne's face. Her blue eyes, though dark with desire, were set in concentration as she methodically slid two fingers inside her. Sansa had had explored on her own, but it was different with another person whose actions she couldn't predict. Brienne was methodical, varying her speed and movements at Sansa's reactions. She felt powerless, but there was nothing so pleasurable as to be powerless at the hands of her loyal knight. 

She pressed forward so she could repay the favor. Brienne's folds were as warm and wet for her fingers as they had been for her mouth and she felt them tighten around her. Both of their breaths were coming in gasps now as they worked and Sansa rode Brienne's fingers as she felt her climax building. 

She moaned against Brienne's mouth as she finally gave herself over to the wave that threatened to overtake her. The groan she made was quite unladylike and her fingers paused a moment inside Brienne as the moment passed. Then she was back, working even more furiously, with the goal of seeing Brienne come apart as she had done. Sansa was still half shuddering herself when Brienne's pleasure came and she watched her, eyes closed in benediction, hair wild, as she was overcome by the same pleasures Sansa had just experienced. 

They did not speak for a long while as they recovered their breaths, though Sansa could not still her hands on Brienne's back.

"So," she said, at last, brushing Brienne's hair back from her forehead. "How did you like that?"

Brienne caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. "It was exquisite, Your Grace." 

Sansa smiled. "Well, it will not be the last time. I told you I wanted to go my marriage bed prepared and I will." She kissed Brienne's forehead. "And then, aside from the time that I must do my duty for the future of House Stark, this bed and this chamber will be ours."

Brienne surprised her by suddenly enfolding Sansa in her arms. Their skin pressed together heightened the tingling feeling she already felt and she felt herself relax against the other woman. Her heart was still pounding and so was Brienne's. 

"I look forward to it, Your Grace," Brienne murmured.

As they lay back on top of the bed, the fire and the heat inside them negating the need for furs, Sansa decided she, too, would look forward to the new turn their relationship had taken.


End file.
